from a couch, pushing through

hair tossed aside

falling down

covering eyes, masking deceit

daily newspapers filled the beat

quickly tossed aside, recycled

redrawn

same words, different names, pictures with paragraphs stripping the game of any integrity left dripping onto bathroom floors during bowel movement rituals greeting morning

be your true self, beneath the veneer, it’s hard not to like the man with money, he enjoyed her company

he left her falling like a squeezed lemon, bitter displays, what you want to hear at the brink of devastation

never committing

sleepy soup brained middle men hopped on a choo choo train and wished away every friend they ever had, too much to relate to when minutes are split by today’s deceptive practice

wash, rinse, repeat?

admit that thinning spot is reality

expose vulnerability

move away from our dailies

into a grave

relieving concerns

we forgot how to behave

from a porch, let’s swim

howling back

walking cold, sweatshirt stretched as hands pull pockets past a waist strapped

just in case

in case my instincts and common sense, kindness and corner stance, can’t ward off an error by undereducated, underfunded, drug riddled corners with resting peace officers taking a hit

skim off the top

i’m drawn to the chalk outline, urine soaked sidewalks with prancing foreign faces finding clever-phrased posters drawing them in for food, or other shit we don’t need

the ocean is waiting for me

let’s swim

from a booth, upstairs at city lights

amongst you

i hear the shuffling of papers, folders opening and closing wondering if we’d gone too far from nights dancing words shooting stars glazed over realizing dylan was a person

the best of my generation

they read words in corners and debate your mind

it’s theirs

clothes hang in a breeze only this town can laugh at

they grin and won’t finish the book

we thought we should discover, why this upstairs reading room is full of fears

cameras snapping, you ran out the back door after drifting through monsters in the basement odors where stairs creaked giving you away to the only celebrity status you could have imagined a poet to have

snapping fingers and gay men touching genitalia to press our comfort level to heights ignored by the dragons next door, they’re selling culture

walking through back streets

is any of it here, have we maintained a museum losing intention of what a place like this creates

i’m scared, scared that as i write this poem in your echo it’s an ode to something shit on by our generations dabbling quick pulse obsession with taking a picture outside and proving our worth, i’m done

your paper is now being crumbled, chair wheels spin, i hear you pacing around the room

are you waiting for me

staples

dropped articles, a tape dispenser

my heart races

are you going to open up, wait, lighter laughter

women’s voices, talking about their mother

what she used to say

songs she’d play

‘it cracked me up’

‘that’s so great’ it sounded fake, maybe your voices did too, i immortalized fakers

i’m done; in the poetry room

kids are impatiently waiting in streets honking

time to pay my money, as tribute, to standing, sitting and waiting

where you once dwelled

thank you

from bed, fragments joined

i don’t need to give you a beat

strip down, hold your own spoon

reading fragments, my life and mind

you should relate

ball point pens, bastardized purity

cannonballs drop and fly, one we smile

the other we die

if i provided the rhythm, sishboom-ta-sish-ma-bleepity-ba

the mistake is made

you’ll be gone, believing me

cadence in footsteps racing on moving sidewalks, bastards, i’ll say it again

there is no father, pretend

answers aren’t magic

amend, times change, however tragic

revolutions rearrange, chaotic static

pathways we once trusted

slap your knees

move your mouth, soliloquies

you don’t need me

there is no part

parting, to the end of this musical

joining the ripple

losing your need

for me to provide a beat

from bed, wrestling with the past

tag team matches were my favorite

the way they waited until just the right moment to slap hands, and rage on with new energy

rope shaking

coordinated uniforms

a bond taking on the world

i spent a lot of time watching them

legs crossed

sunday mornings

on-and-off eyeing last weeks doritoes crumbs hiding deep enough in green-shag-carpet pockets to be vacuum ignored, my “operation” ready pincher-fingers poking and prodding

i never ate a booger, but the red dust collateral-damage fragments found their way into my mouth

from time to time

hey, my stomach rumbled, and i couldn’t miss the match

bulldogs

warriors

bushwakers

brothers

and freebirds

i believed them, more than the moving voices thumping around in their own safe rooms behind and around me, joined together islands making a home, house, encapsulator of secrets and mirrors

alliances changed

interviews hijacked

an interpretative tussle-dance playing out on colored tubes while making sense of a childhood in real time, similarities shifted in my springtide mind (he is like him), connections made to characters

and caregivers

i, they, gave new strength and roles

i could relate

sort out the thunder from the rain

battle royals were saved for saturday nights

i hid under my covers while watching, wincing, and covering, real blood, real punishing blows, and coffin nails

they would leave

i’d get up

shaking my head

“was it real?”

from bed, the beatles influence as much as city lights

yesterday

left behind

an answer to codes that deliver us blind

to life’s changing dimensions

forgotten connections

nothing to remember

only today

tomorrow seems so far away, Paul

Dear John, yesterday is gone

so is the beginning of your song

finally ending, turntable spinning to dizzy miss lizzy

the face you just saw

in the moments we were busy wondering how it once felt

yesterday

ensnared by the trap pollyanna set to snap in place your present mind

so she doesn’t have to exist

she, and lizzy, becomes us

changing their name

to today

tomorrow is just another song

from a porch, number two: trying to find peace in reality

doubting double-takes

going for another

it’s in the clouds, mist gathering causing a shudder from my insides out as i wander about dipping and gliding forgetting how to shout a subtle sigh pushes out my lips as the currents of air begin to rip and i finally feel eternity with no weight, now, no wait to melt into the gathering of other midnight mourning souls wishing away another breezeless night alone in smoke gathered rooms pretending we figured out our plight safety displayed in plumes that’ll fade away

eventually bringing morning, we shake that world from our consciousness

and drift through our day